Christmas Eve!

Porch Kitty came to visit today...

I've spotted her sleeping on my patio chair a couple of times before, but this is the first time that she didn't run away as soon as I opened the blinds.  In fact, she stayed curled up on the chair asleep for a good half hour or so before she suddenly vanished.  Just call it a Christmas miracle :)

I spent the day lounging about as usual, until I went to work in the evening.  It was sort of bittersweet.  Obviously, I'd prefer to be with my family on Christmas Eve instead of eating a frozen dinner and watching A Christmas Story on TV, but at the same time I realized and appreciated that I was getting to be a part of something special by staying in Dallas for my internship.  Every other Christmas Eve of my life has been spent in a white suburban church...this year I spent it with about 200 Filipino people.  Between a little girl running up and excitedly telling me that this is her first Christmas in America, and singing a verse of Silent Night in Tagalog, I realized what a truly unique and wonderful situation I have found myself in.  I could have wound up in any number of white suburban churches in Dallas similar to my home congregation for my internship...but I ended up working closely with a people group that I had no prior experience with, but which I have come to love.  This time last year, I never would have pictured my Christmas Eve looking like this.  But if I can't be with my family, I'm glad to have been able to spend it like this.  

Merry Christmas, everyone!  (Or, Maligayang Pasko, I should say)

Christmas Eve photo
(carrying on the family tradition even
without the family)

Natanaw na, sa silangan
Ang talang patnubay
Ng gabing katahimikan
Nang ang Sanggol sa lupa'y isinilang
Ng Birheng matimtiman
Sa hamak na sabsaban.


O Liniwag, o tanglaw
Ng gabing kay inam
tulog na o, Sanggol na hirang
Hilig ng sa sutlang kandungan
Ng Birheng matimtiman
Ikaw ay aawitan.

Masarap.

Well today was rough, but I survived.  Let me walk you through it.

I woke up just as stressed out as I was when I went to bed, but lacking the ability to use sleep as a means of escapism from said stress  So instead I curled up on the couch and stared forlornly at my computer screen, took a shower, and watched some TV, before catching my friend Katrina on Facebook chat, and discovered that she was having a similar experience.  We decided that we both needed some moral support and to get out of our respective apartments, and formulated plans to go to White Rock Coffee (my I-need-to-study coffee shop of choice) and work on things together.  This was possibly the best idea we could have had.  I actually managed to finish my internship midpoint self-evaluation paper, which ultimately reached 16 mostly single-spaced pages for a grand total of 6,500 words (that's a lot, people).  It took a good 5 hours of work today to finish it, and another hour to proofread it.  It was a very draining essay to write because it involved a great deal of self-criticism and more reflection than any normal person likes to engage in.  In fact, the hour of proofreading effectively killed the happiness and relief that I felt upon finishing the actual writing of the paper, and when we left the coffee shop around 5:15 I was completely exhausted despite the Peppermint Mocha that had been consumed some three hours earlier.

Although I would have liked to spend the night curled up under a blanket watching mindless television, I fought my way through the rain to my mentor pastor's house for the church staff Christmas party that he and his wife were hosting tonight.  It was a stressful drive because the rain made the roads slick and the lanes nearly invisible, and there were massive puddles everywhere.  But finally I got to the house, offered my gift of a Christmas poinsettia to my mentor pastor and his wife, and settled in for a party.  Even though I was kind of out of it at first, this was actually very good medicine for my overwhelmed and stressed-out demeanor.  It turns out that a good recipe for stress relief is a mixture of Christmas carols, Filipino food, cute children, and general Christian community.  A couple of the women also taught me to speak some Tagalog, much to the delight of everyone who crossed my path throughout the night.  I learned four words in total: "masarap" (good/delicious), "maganda" (beautiful), "opo" (yes), and "bapo" (takeout/leftovers).  The spelling on that last one is questionable, but my knowledge of Tagalog quadrupled in this one evening.  I got sent home with a great deal of "bapo" (spring rolls, ham, fried chicken, black rice, sticky rice, and fruit salad), a big box of peanut butter M&Ms, and a pretty glass angel ornament.  It was a very re-energizing evening after a long day of studying.

So now I'm down to preparing for just two finals, one of which I'm not concerned about at all and one of which scares the bejeebers out of me.  But it will all be over come Thursday, and that is my shining ray of hope.

Also, last night I made "Ratatouille"'s ratatouille (as in, ratatouille based on the version created by the rat in the Disney movie), but was too stressed out to write about it.  Eggplant, zucchini, yellow squash and red pepper atop a bed of tomato paste with chopped onions, garlic, and olive oil, cooked in an oven and topped with goat cheese.  It was all delicious.  Here's a picture of it.  It's pretty masarap, and a bit maganda as well.

And, for fun, here's a song that I have been playing on repeat for most of the day.  Even though it has nothing to do with anything else in this post...

The Most Complicated (But Enjoyable) Picnic Ever

Today the church I work for had a Labor Day picnic in the evening, out in the countryside on a farm belonging to a couple in the congregation.  The picnic was scheduled for 5pm, so I left my apartment around 4pm since Mapquest said it would take about an hour to get there.  And sure enough, just after 5pm (and after momentarily being "lost" by not going far enough down the road) I pulled into the house's driveway.

And no one was there.

But, having just spoken to the woman who owned the house on the phone, I figured that she and her husband must just be inside the dome-shaped house, and that I must just be the first one there.  So I got out of the car, and started wandering along the fence, looking for a gate.  And I wandered...and wandered...and wandered.  I wandered to the very end of the long fence, and found no gate, besides a cattle gate that was wired shut.  So I turned around, and wandered back.  Shortly, I happened upon a farmhand and asked him where the gate was.  I was relieved to hear him mention the last name of the people I was looking for (at least I was in the right spot!), and he undid the wire around the cattle gate and let me inside the yard.

In a dramatic turn of weather-related events, the 105 degree stifling heat had given way to a day of temperatures in the mid- to upper-80s, which was lovely.  Unfortunately, this change in weather came with WIND.  And LOTS of it.  I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West was going to come flying by at any moment.  So, confused and windblown, I sat down in a chair and waited.  It turns out that not only was I the first guest, but I'd even beaten the hosts.  Eventually I fought the wind back to the car, both to search out a church bulletin and verify that I had the correct time (which I did) and also to sit out of the wind and away from the perplexed farmhand who was trying to figure out what to do with me.  While sitting in the car, I did what I often do in awkward situations: called my friend Brandi and laughed about the awkwardness that I was experiencing.

Around 5:20, the hosts of the picnic pulled up, and after introducing myself as the enthusiastic and charming young seminary intern, I helped unload their truck of its picnic-esque fare.  A little while later, another car pulled up, and a couple from the church got out.  Then we were all invited into the house, to escape the wind and wait on everyone else, who apparently had gotten hung up on a baby shower at the church (which, for the record, had begun 3 hours prior).

The house was the most charming thing ever.  It was one of those dome houses that you often see from the side of the road, but rarely get to go inside (if you're like me, anyway).  The inside was truly lovely, with warm yellow walls and hardwood floors.  The bulk of the place was taken up by a living room that opened up to the dome ceiling, complete with a spiral staircase in the corner leading up to a loft with cafe-style tables and chairs.  It doesn't take much more than a spiral staircase in the living room to make me a fan of a house.  Underneath the loft was the kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom - simple, but adorable.  I told the family that if they ever got tired of the house, I'd take it off their hands.  This comment was received with general amusement.

For the next 45 minutes, I sat in the living room with these four people from the church (one of whom was wearing a white cowboy hat with a rattlesnake ribbon complete with a rattlesnake head sticking ferociously off the front).  We conversed politely, and I felt bad for being as tired as I was (keep in mind that I'd already been to work at the church and driven all the way out to the country by the time this event was happening).  Finally, around 6:30pm, more people began to show up, and around 7:00 or so I ventured back outside the house, into the wind and general crowd of Filipino people who had gathered.

It was at this point that the picnic began to be truly enjoyable.  I was introduced to a picnic table of ladies from the church and the hosts' next-door-neighbor, and sat and chatted with them for the remainder of the night.  The food (when it was finally served around 8:00) was bountiful and delicious - sticky rice (cooked in that perfect way that these Filipino people seem to be able to accomplish with ease), Greek couscous, grilled chicken, hot dogs, noodle salad with vegetables, adobo, and other things of which I did not partake because I ran out of room on my plate.  I did save room for dessert: a chocolate chip cookie and ginataang - a Filipino rice and bean dessert based on coconut milk and, in this case, containing giant blobs of tapioca.  It was all really, really good!  If there's one thing that can be said for this internship, it's that it's expanding my food knowledge and exciting my taste buds!

I left the picnic around 9pm, and got back to my apartment an hour later around 10pm.  The drive back included an unexpected venture through downtown Dallas at night; even though my GPS hadn't taken me on that highway on the way to the picnic, it seemed to be its preferred route back home, and being tired and unfamiliar with my surroundings I didn't want to risk overriding the GPS mandates.  Although this was naturally a more chaotic route, I always love driving by the city at night...it makes me feel like I'm living the quintessential exciting young-adult life.  Which, I suppose, I actually am...with some Filipino flare, in the case of this year :)

Tomorrow will be another busy social day, as I have plans with my boyfriend in the afternoon and I am celebrating a friend's birthday in the evening.  Hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in some homework time as well!!

Mabuting Pakikitungo

That is, according to Google Translate, the Tagalog word for "hospitality;" and, after just a couple of days of working at a church with a majority Filipino congregation, I think that we Americans could use a lesson in mabuting pakikitungo.

As an illustration, I shall now recount to you my tale of unintentionally crashing an intimate Filipino get-together.

Today was my first non-Sunday day on the job at the church, and since my mentor pastor is out of town at the moment, I wound up just tagging along with the associate pastor on his activities for the day - including, apparently, a goodbye lunch for an elderly church member named Nora who is returning to the Philippines tomorrow.  From the way that Edwin (the associate pastor) casually invited me along, I pictured a good-sized gathering of people from the church.  Instead, after a lengthy drive out to Garland with Edwin's wife and daughter, we pulled into the parking lot of a modest apartment complex, knocked on the door, and walked into an apartment about the same size as my personal one-bedroom apartment, but stuffed with more furniture and more people.

The woman who answered the door (the owner of the apartment, whose name I'm ashamed to say I don't remember) glanced at me with confusion at first, but greeted us all enthusiastically and lit up when I was introduced as "the seminary intern."  Still, I felt like I was intruding on an intimate family affair, horribly aware of the fact that I had no significant connection to this woman nor any of those who were actually invited.

But then, as I stepped through the door, I saw Nora smiling and sitting across the room on a couch.  Although, to be fair, I only saw her sitting on the couch for a moment; the next second, this short, 82-year-old Filipino woman, who perfectly fit the embodiment of elderly wisdom, was walking across the room with outstretched arms, and embracing me in a hug.  The top of her head barely came above my elbows, but with great authority she welcomed me into the house, and designated a spot on the couch next to her for me to sit (which I did, with gratitude).  As everyone settled into the small living room, the conversation shifted seamlessly from English to Tagalog and back, punctuated by the sounds of a Filipino game show coming from the flatscreen TV lingering overhead.  Shyness and language restraints getting the best of me, I didn't participate greatly in the conversation, but I felt a sort of intangible feeling of being welcomed in this place - a feeling that was reinforced when it came time to eat, and I was gently forced into serving myself first: a right that I felt I certainly did not have, but a gift which was bestowed  upon me nonetheless.

Speaking of the meal, this was my first real glimpse into an authentic Filipino meal, and it was such a cool experience!  The rice was cooked in that perfect way where it is gooey and sticky, and served with some sort of sea-green colored soup mixture featuring floating chicken drumsticks, and large chunks of ginger root and potato that were tinted the same inexplicable green color.  Alongside this intriguing bowl sat a dish of super thin noodles tossed with shrimp, scallops, carrots, egg, and seasoned with some sort of reddish spice that was familiar but unidentifiable.  The final dish appeared at first glance to be two long pieces of seared steak, but upon closer inspection was actually whole fish (heads and all).  I actually didn't eat the fish because initially I didn't see a knife to cut it with, and eventually because it never made its way across the table to me and I didn't necessarily care to request its presence on my plate.  But everything else was quite good.

As we were eating, more relatives flowed in and out of the apartment, occasionally grabbing plates and dishing up some of the leftovers of the meal, which were plentiful despite the deceivingly small serving dishes.  I eventually struck up a conversation with Nora and one of her daughters (again, the name escapes me), and I learned that, in Filipino culture, one always plans for unexpected guests when preparing meals - that is, to them, an integral part of hospitality.  That was such a foreign concept for me (pardon the pun).  When I cook meals for people (which, granted, is not very often) I plan the meals in such a way that there will be enough for everyone to take a good amount of food, so that nobody gets shorted.  So, if I'm cooking for a group of 4, I'll probably prepare something like 6 servings of everything...but, if two extra people showed up unexpectedly, I would likely go into a hostess panic and, quite honestly, be quietly resentful of their presence and the inconsiderateness of the people who invited them without informing me.

What a difference from the Filipino culture that I suddenly find myself immersed in.

Really, after experiencing this Filipino culture of hospitality in just a couple days, I am convinced that the Filipino picture of hospitality is much closer to authentic Christian hospitality than the American idea.  This is not just in regards to food preparation, but in the entire attitude of welcoming strangers that seems to pervade their gatherings.  Over and over, I have been told the same two things by church members: "You will be well fed" and "Welcome to our family."  And, I must say...I don't think they're exaggerating on either account.

The other thing that stood out at lunch was the sheer strength of Nora's faith even in a life filled with hardships.  As I munched on rice, she told me with great vivacity of how she came with her husband to the United States from the Philippines and struggled for 25 years to get all their children to the USA as well.  She told me of losing her son and her husband, but spoke of both of these events with a smile on her face and in her eyes, declaring in a way that was not at all ironic that they were "with the Lord."  Nora asserted over and over that we all "have the same Father," and reminded the table frequently that "man proposes, but God disposes" (meaning that we can come up with all the plans we want, but God's plan is supreme).  I only knew her for a couple hours, but I was infinitely grateful that I had the opportunity to meet her before she returned to the Philippines, however brief our meeting.

As I left the lunch, Nora gave me several hugs and declared that she would never forget me.  And while she may or may not really remember me in years to come, I am certain that I will never forget Nora.